Just a Pinch of Pink
by Allenby Beardsley
Summary: Emotional ONE-SHOT A inside look on WHY Chibodee colors his hair pink. Major angst alert!


A/N: While I should either be getting some much needed sleep or working on my other fics, I got the idea for this one little one-shot.  I was thinking back on a random rp I was doing with my friends Steph and Rachel, and I wrote Chibodee into it and wrote the cliché joke about him coloring his hair pink, and it grew from there.  I think it's one of my better one-shots, and I'm quite proud of it.  I also wrote it in about one hour!  Ha!  Go me!  Anyway, it is quite emotional, and I had fun writing it, and I hope you have fun reading it.  R&R!

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own _G Gundam_.

"Just A Pinch of Pink" by Allenby Beardsley

Chibodee stared at his reflection for a long time.  There he was.  Chibodee Crocket.  The mighty Neo-American Gundam fighter.  The famous boxer.  The pilot of Maxter Gundam.  The Queen of Spades of the Shuffle Alliance. 

His eyes of jade green gazed back at him tiredly, and faint outlines of bags could be seen under his eyes, a sign that he was overworking too much.  A navy blue stumble was forming on his chin, as he had not shaved in almost a whole week, and made him look more rugged.  His lips were slightly chapped from training outside in the chilled autumn weather, and the ends of them were curved downward into a small frown, as if he was disappointed or in emotional pain.  And his navy blue hair stuck up in a series of erratic spikes, looking more like a bed-head now than ever.

Yes, _navy blue_ hair.

Just navy blue. 

There Chibodee Crocket stood in front of his bathroom mirror with only navy blue hair, no pink patch in front.  The reason for this was that Chibodee colored his hair pink.  No one else knew of this secret, not even his beloved crew.  If such information ever leaked out into the public, his tough macho guy image would be ruined forever.  However, Chibodee never let on to anybody of his secret and always colored his hair in private, covering his hair with a hat when the color would begin to fade; he was a master at keeping his secret.  But that still left the question why.  Why did he color his hair and why pink of all colors?

He sighed heavily as he rubbed over his eyes with his left hand and looked into the mirror again, his frown bigger this time.  It was that time of every six weeks.  It was time to color his hair again.  His eyes looked beyond the crowded space of the bathroom, looking past the reflection of the exhausted man as he thought back on why he started coloring his hair.

No longer was he standing in his bathroom of his mansion; instead, he was standing in the kitchen of the run-down apartment he lived in as a kid.  His mother stood beside him, humming softly with a small smile to her face, and he looked up at her.  She looked down and smiled lovingly at her son, and she carefully cradled the infant Chibodee in her arms and lifted him up to see the windowsill covered with pots filled with pink flowers in them.  Chibodee wrinkled his nose in disgust; he hated the color pink, but his mother had told him that pink symbolized love and happiness.  His mother always bought pink flowers and even had a pretty pink dress she would wear on special occasions.  But she loved those flowers; she would have them everywhere.

He put them on her grave.

His mother loved the color pink.

Tears stung his eyes as he remembered his beloved mother and the good times they shared together.  It was so lonely and hard without her here with him, and some times at night he would lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling and he would cry, missing her so much.  He craved her comfort that no woman could seem to replace, no matter how beautiful.  He craved her love that he could never find from another.  He craved her support that was not in the world.  Everything he did was for her.  His fighting, his victories, his tears, his mourning…all for her.  Yet, it all amounted to nothing.  She was still gone, gone away forever, and there would be nothing in the world that could bring her back again.

He had nothing of her.  Their old apartment had been torn down years ago after the coaches took him in, and they destroyed her flowers.  He had to find a way to keep her with him, for her to stay. 

A choked sob escaped Chibodee's lips as his hands tighten into two perfect fists, and he pushed them down the counter of the sink to keep himself up as the clear hot tears slowly trickled down his cheeks.  He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, trying to keep his pain and tears away.  In that moment, a thought struck him: he wanted his mommy.  He didn't care if that sounded wimpy; it was the truth.  Breathing hard, he finally opened his eyes, though they were still filled with tears, and picked up a small box with his right hand and looked at it seriously for a moment.

It read Carnation Pink 02.

He opened it up and began to mix the chemicals in the bottle.      


End file.
